Too Cool for This School

by Kristen Tracy

  Cough. Cough. “Hawaii,” I gasped. “I’d rather go to Hawaii.”

  My mom stopped patting my back.

  “I’ll show you how to lick a glacier,” Mint said.

  “That’s disgusting,” I said. Cough. Cough. “I just lost my appetite.”

  With that, I pushed away my beans. And then I stuck my tongue out at our poor, dead crab. And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, something really bizarre happened. I heard a cell phone ring and it was Mint’s. I was really surprised to hear this. Because she’d said she’d left her cell phone in my dad’s car. Why was she lying to me about that? What else was she lying to me about? I couldn’t stop glaring at her.

  “It’s my mom!” she said, cheerfully placing her phone next to her head. “She said she’d phone me as soon as the ship got to their port in Italy.”

  I turned to my mom. “Shouldn’t she take that call in the lobby?” My mom couldn’t stand it when people talked on their cell phones at the table.

  My mom motioned to Mint. “Follow me up front.”

  Mint and my mom weaved their way around people’s tables and turned a corner, out of view. I was just about to tell my dad that I could not stand Mint when his phone started to buzz.

  “I need to take this,” he said, getting up.

  Sitting alone at the table with two dead crabs wasn’t ideal. Because, in addition to looking like dead crabs, they smelled like dead crabs. So I just decided to breathe half as much as normal and stare at the saltshaker until my family returned. But then something unexpected happened. I felt a person tap me on the shoulder. And when I turned around I was shocked to see Todd.

  “Hi, Lane,” Todd said.

  I felt my face blush. He looked very dressed up in khaki pants and a cute sweater. Why was he here?

  “I didn’t know you came to this restaurant,” he said. “My family is celebrating my grandparents’ anniversary.”

  I blinked at him in disbelief.

  “We’re over there,” he said.

  I followed the aim of his finger to a crowded table filled with the remains of a big white cake.

  “I brought you a piece,” he said, handing me a small dish loaded with a slice of heavily frosted cake.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “I’ve been trying to get your attention all night,” he said.

  My heart raced very quickly when I heard this. I loved the idea of Todd trying to get my attention all night.

  “I’ve got to get back to my table now,” he said. Then he did something terrible. He handed me a second piece of cake.

  “Oh, thanks,” I said. But I didn’t think I could eat two pieces of cake.

  “It’s for Mint,” he said. “Does she eat cake?”

  I didn’t even answer that question, because I didn’t even care.

  “Thanks,” I said. “You’d better go. My dad is coming back.”

  “He can know that we’re friends, can’t he?” Todd asked.

  But if he knew we were friends, he might eventually suspect that we were more than friends. Which we most definitely were. We passed each other notes all the time. And we’d held hands. Twice.

  1) Before lunch two weeks ago.

  2) After lunch one week ago.

  “He’s taking an important business call,” I said. “Next time?”

  “Okay,” Todd said. “I’ll text you later.”

  “Cool,” I said. Then I waved.

  And as soon as Todd left, I inhaled Mint’s piece of cake. There was no way I was going to let Todd give my crazy cousin a slice of his grandparents’ anniversary cake. No. Way. But then I realized that I didn’t want to have to explain who had brought me my own piece of cake. So I ate that one too. And then I stashed the empty plates on a nearby table whose occupants had just left. By the time my parents got back, I was feeling very full and extremely energized.

  “My mom is having an amazing honeymoon,” Mint said. “She and Clark just visited the Colosseum.”

  Gag. I’d heard of the Colosseum in fourth grade. It was a place where crowds gathered to watch gladiators fight vicious animals to the death, like tigers, elephants, lions, bears, and ostriches. What a rotten place to visit on your honeymoon.

  “Aren’t you going to eat more crab?” my mom asked, pointing to the big orange shell on the platter that I had not touched.

  “I’m good,” I said. I turned around and sneaked another look at Todd. And when I did that, I realized that Mint had had him in clear view the entire evening. Not only had she lied to me about her cell phone. She knew Todd was in the restaurant and she hadn’t told me.

  I turned back to the table and watched Mint as she cracked open our crab’s larger claw. Using a small fork, she dug out chunks of glistening white meat from its shell. I watched her place it in her tiny mouth. Then she cracked another shell. And something about the way she pried open and devoured that crustacean, little bite by little bite, made me realize that even though Angelina Mint Taravel was my own flesh and blood, I shouldn’t trust her.

  12

  I had three more weeks left with Angelina Mint Taravel. How much more terrible could things get?

  So much more terrible!

  “I am going to try something new with my hair,” Mint said as we were getting ready to leave for school.

  She was wearing her camouflage T-shirt that said DON’T SHOOT for a third time and it was pointless to try and stop her.

  I went to the kitchen and lifted my Tupperware container filled with vegan lemon-poppy-seed cookies into my backpack. Though I’d never admit it to her face, Mint was right when she accused my dehydrated chocolate chip cookies of looking like dog turds. I felt lucky to have a second chance to make something better for the cookie basket.

  After I zipped my backpack, Mint came out of the bathroom with eight jumbo straws pieced through a loose bun on her head. She looked ridiculous.

  “I saw them at the store yesterday by the fountain drinks,” she said. “The clerk let me have them for free.”

  Didn’t they have convenience stories in Alaska? Didn’t she know the straws were always free? That normal people didn’t style their hair with them?

  “I am going to be totally honest,” I said. “That is not your best look.”

  Mint frowned at me. “You are so conservative.”

  What? My cousin was really pushing my buttons. I wasn’t conservative. I was ambitious. And I had a whole container of vegan cookies to prove it.

  “Listen. Do you want my advice or not?” I asked her. I folded my arms across my chest and stared at her with my serious face.

  She shook her head. “Not really. You want me to do things your way. But I do stuff a different way.”

  Wow. What was she saying? I did stuff the way you were supposed to do stuff in order to live a fantastic life. Didn’t she see that? Couldn’t she see how great I was at making awesome friends like Ava and Rachel and Lucia? Plus, I’d won class captain. It was insulting. She should have been thankful I was trying to help her. “Fine,” I said. “Wear straws on your head. I don’t care.”

  I considered the conversation we’d had in front of my closet a fight. And after our fight, I did not want to talk to Mint. But she kept trying to talk to me. All the way to school I answered her in short, huffy sentences.

  OUR DRIVEWAY CONVERSATION WAITING FOR THE BUS

  “Do you think we’ll still be working on mapping New Mexico’s water resources today?” Mint asked.

  “Probably.”

  “Cool. I reviewed all my notes last night.”

  Sigh.

  OUR BUS CONVERSATION

  “Wow. Don’t you think the bus smells like burned peanuts this morning?” Mint commented.

  I inhaled a bunch of bus air and shook my head. I just smelled my awesome cookies.

  OUR PRE-CLASS HALLWAY CONVERSATION

  “Paulette Feeley is wearing the cutest boots. I want to ask her where she got them.”

  Double sigh. “They’re hid
eous.”

  I said this because Paulette was wearing the grossest boots I’d ever seen. They looked like they were covered in horse crap or pig crap or worse.

  Then I overheard one of the worst conversations of my life. Seriously. It made me want to die.

  “Hey! Is that a Dwarf Massacre Three: Axe of Doom comic book?” Mint asked.

  I turned my head a little and glanced at Jagger’s magazine. It looked pretty violent.

  “You know about Dwarf Massacre Three?” Jagger asked.

  “I just barely won that game. I was stuck in the slime caves below the pirate ship forever before I found the way out,” Mint said.

  I couldn’t believe that Mint played that game.

  “Todd and I are stuck in the slimes cave right now,” Jagger said. “Every time I think we’re getting out, the monsters keep respawning.”

  “Yeah. You need to kill them quicker,” Mint said.

  “We’re trying,” Jagger said, sounding exhausted. “So, is there a way out of the slime caves or do we need to go back?”

  “How much do you want me to reveal about the secret rock?” Mint asked, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

  “Everything!” Jagger said.

  INSIDE MY OWN HEAD CONVERSATION

  Ava is going to die when I tell her about this.

  A note landed next to my arm. It was from Ava.

  We pick groups for that Julie wolf book today. Me, you, Jagger, Todd. Okay?

  I turned back to Ava and nodded. I hoped Lucia and Rachel didn’t feel left out. And I hoped Jagger didn’t want to be grouped with Mint. Did my cousin know she was ruining everybody’s lives?

  Mint plopped down in the seat behind me and leaned forward. “Paulette says she got her boots in Texas.”

  I didn’t respond. “She has an aunt who’s a rodeo star and lives in Amarillo,” Mint went on. “Apparently she can hog-tie almost anything in under a minute.”

  I still didn’t respond. But Mint kept gabbing.

  “One of my mom’s favorite songs is about Amarillo. It’s about a divorced rodeo guy who’s trying to drive from San Antonio to Amarillo by morning so he can get bucked by the number eight bull.”

  This was insane. What was wrong with my cousin? I didn’t care about songs about divorced men getting bucked by bulls in Texas. I flipped around. “You talk too much!”

  She pulled away and sat back in her seat. “I don’t know if that’s true. I think I’m just more social than you are.”

  I felt anger crawling through me. How dare she say something awful about me. I was plenty social!

  “You are acting like a dweeb,” I snapped.

  Ava only sat a row away, but she heard me say this and she smiled. Which made me feel good for one second. But then I worried that other people might have heard me and I felt bad. I thought about what my dad had said about protecting my flesh and blood, which I definitely was not doing by calling my cousin a dweeb in front of my entire class.

  “I didn’t mean to snap at you,” I mumbled. But Mint never said anything back. So I didn’t know if she was pouting. Or maybe she never heard my apology.

  I watched as everybody hurried to sit down right as the last bell rang. I used to flitter around before the bell rang too. I’d go talk to Lucia or Rachel or Todd or peek inside the tank that held our class frogs. But ever since Mint had arrived, I hadn’t felt like it. I’d felt burdened and pretty worried. I thought about turning around and apologizing more loudly, but I also didn’t feel like doing that at all. So I didn’t.

  Before I could stew much more in my own problems, I was ripped to attention. Derek was standing in the doorway, waving at me. I waved back. And then he entered my classroom.

  “Can I talk to Lane?” Derek asked. “It’s about our class-captain meeting.”

  “Sure,” Mr. Guzman said. “Lane, I’ll give you five minutes.”

  It was a pleasant feeling knowing everybody was watching me as I walked out of the classroom into the hallway. I wondered what Derek needed to tell me. It must have been super important. We stood by my classroom next to a row of lockers.

  “Did you forget?” he asked.

  I didn’t know what Derek was talking about. What was I supposed to remember?

  “The vegan cookies,” Derek said. “For the cookie basket. Everybody gave theirs to Leslie before school.”

  “I didn’t forget!” I said. “They’re in my backpack.”

  Derek smiled and put his arm on my shoulder. “Cool. I’ll tell Leslie. Give them to her at lunch. She was freaking out about it.”

  “I made Leslie freak out?” I asked, pointing to myself.

  “It wasn’t just you. Fiona’s cookies look like crap. She overbaked them. I don’t think it’s a huge deal,” Derek said with a shrug. “But both Leslie and Robin can go mental over small details.”

  “Oh,” I said. It suddenly felt as if Derek and I were dissing the other class captains in the hallway, and I’d rather not be doing that. “My cookies look pretty good. I mean, they’re vegan. So they look a little different.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” he said. “I’ll find you at lunch.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “That sounds cool.” But that wasn’t the total truth, because I was really looking forward to just hanging out with my friends.

  When I walked back into the classroom, everybody sat quietly focused, listening to Mr. Guzman.

  “You all look wonderful and well rested,” Mr. Guzman said. “And ready to hear some news about our next class assignment.”

  A couple of people groaned. It sounded like Morgan Dover and Thad Cartwright. Typically, they were known for groaning because they were the least excited about learning. I slipped into my seat and glanced back at Ava. She was very good at predicting news. I think it came from her tendencies to snoop and eavesdrop and guess well.

  “It’s time to pick your groups for Julie of the Wolves.”

  Two more people groaned. But the rest of us were pretty jazzed. Because group assignments meant group time. And that basically meant talking with your friends for an hour each day.

  “Are you curious to know what you’ll be doing?” Mr. Guzman asked.

  Of course we were curious. It was our first group assignment of the year.

  “You’ll all be doing a transformational genre exercise,” Mr. Guzman said.

  Excited? I turned back and frowned at Ava. Because a transformational genre exercise sounded hard.

  “What it means is that you’re each going to take a section of the novel and transform it into a different genre.”

  “Like a movie!” Paulette asked. “Will we film each other?”

  That seemed unlikely. Our school had a policy against filming students on school property. I flipped back to Ava and watched her roll her eyes. I really enjoyed it when Ava made rude facial expressions aimed at people I didn’t totally like.

  “No, not a movie,” Mr. Guzman said. “We’re going to transform sections of the novel into a play. You’ll each be assigned a different section. And at the end, we’ll have a play of the entire book.”

  A note landed next to my arm. It was from Todd.

  I hope we get in the same group.

  I wrote at the bottom of the note in big letters so he could read them.

  ME TOO :)

  Glancing around the room, I caught Rachel looking at me. She pointed to herself and then pointed to me. Uh-oh. Mr. Guzman said all groups were made of four or less. There wasn’t any room for Rachel to join our group. So I shrugged. I’d explain later. And maybe buy her a candy bar to smooth things over. I’d appeal to her sweet tooth.

  “Now I have some fun news,” Mr. Guzman said.

  I hoped that it was going to be amazingly fun information such as making awesome costumes using glitter or feathers using hot glue guns.

  “Instead of assigning groups, I thought we could shake things up.”

  That didn’t make any sense. Mr. Guzman never shook things up. I watched as my teacher pulled a tw
eed hat out of his desk drawer.

  “Inside this hat are the names of every student in the room. We’re going to be divided into seven groups of four. Listen for your name.”

  This was insane. We should get to pick our groups. How else would we be guaranteed to work with our friends?

  “Fun idea,” Paulette said.

  I did some more glaring at the back of her head. “Actually,” Mr. Guzman said, “Mint suggested it. And it did seem like a fun idea.”

  I looked at Mint. She smiled big. I wanted to choke her.

  After Mr. Guzman called our names, he asked us to walk to the front of the classroom and write our name on the board underneath our group number.

  “Group one,” Mr. Guzman said. “Jasmine, Lexy, Thad, and Lucia.”

  Poor Lucia. Thad wouldn’t do any work. And Lexy always smelled like a pork chop and had a runny nose. Jasmine would probably be okay.

  “Group two,” Mr. Guzman said. “Wren, Wyatt, Coral, and Isaac.”

  Other than Coral, I didn’t have terribly strong opinions about anybody in that group, but based on how they dressed, they were some of the more creative people in my class.

  “Group three,” he announced. “Rachel, Kevin, Felipe, and Lane.”

  Oh no! I was Lane. And I didn’t hear Todd’s name in my group.

  “Group four,” he said. “Paulette, Tuma, Bobby, and Ava.”

  I turned and looked at Ava. No. Way. This was unbelievably lame. I mean, it was sort of evil.

  “Group five,” Mr. Guzman said. “Todd, Jagger, Kimmie, and Mint.”

  This was the worst news of my life. Not only had I not gotten into a group with my Todd, but Mint had. And she’d also gotten into a group with Ava’s crush. The whole thing felt rigged. I felt a note land next to my arm. It was from Mint!

  These are such great groups!

  What a terrible note to write to me. I drew a big frowny face on it and slid the note to the side of my desk so she could read it. Then another note landed next to my arm. It was from Ava.

  You better make her dump that group.

  But I didn’t know how to make Mint do that. She was very independent and difficult. She’d already managed to steal two of my drawers when she didn’t even have enough stuff to fill them. I didn’t bother listening to who ended up in the final two groups. What did it matter to me?